


Halternate Universe

by TwilightVelvet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightVelvet/pseuds/TwilightVelvet
Summary: What if Nepeta died and that made Equius go off of the deep end?
Relationships: Nepeta Leijon & Equius Zahhak
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Halternate Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Things I should be sorry for:  
> 1\. Killing Nepeta  
> 2\. Doing this to Equius  
> 3\. Being somewhat nice to Vriska  
> 4\. Sharing this with the world  
> 5\. The pun
> 
> Things I am sorry for:  
> 1.

She was barely six sweeps. Not even that, according to your rough calculations. It does not matter anymore. This is merely the common punishment for constantly looking to those of low blood for anything more than the quickest and most shallow companionship. How were you to trust her? Why did you trust her, really? Why trust her to live, and carry out all the exciting, ludicrous plans that would make you so happy?

Something… something horrible is calling you to open up Trollian. An absolutely terrible idea, to say the least; nothing would change , except possibly the destruction of what little emotional strength you’ve built up, again. There’s a decent chance that might happen regardless of what you do. You haven’t been able to stop  what could have possibly happened to her from playing in your mind on repeat for the past 10 days. 

With relative certainty, a few highbloods invited her into  a hive. Purple, perhaps. With exact certainty, they beat her until she was terribly bruised and bloody, then finished her off with a few deep gashes on her legs. You are entirely certain of this because they sent pictures.

You haven’t slept for more than a few minutes  at a time  since then. You no longer want to try. Trying something else would be more fruitful. You open Trollian, against better judgement. You look past the picture of… her. No need to speak her name and have this whole process start over. Perhaps you would be best assisted by one of your fellow highbloods.

Perhaps you can stand thinking of her just a little bit.

** \-- centaursTortoiseshell [CT] started trolling tightropesCapricious [TC] at 03:07  ** ** \-- **

** CT: D --> Hello, Highb100d **

** CT: D --> May we speak **

** TC: SURE, MY BLUE BUDDY WITH A WICKED NEW NAME. :o) **

** TC: what’s with it? **

** CT: D --> I’ve realized that there is indeed a peculiar beauty in purrbeasts **

** CT: D --> It may offend you, Highb100d, but I’m not e%actly here for casual conversation **

**TC: WELL, MOTHERFUCKING SHOOT!**

**CT: D -- > W001d you happen to know of any recently** **culled oliveb100ds**

** TC: no. **

** TC: IS THIS ABOUT THAT KITTY BITCH YOU WERE IN DIAMONDS WITH? :o( **

** CT: D --> So you remember **

** CT: D --> Do you know anyone  ** ** else  ** ** in the business who w001d do something similar **

** TC: no. **

** TC: WICKED SORRY ABOUT NEPETA, EQUIUS. **

** \-- tightropesCapricious [TC] logged off at 03:25 -- **

That purple turncoat is obviously lying to you. A highblood, of course, can only be expected to backstab to protect his own interests, but you’re still angry. So angry that you’re shaking. You don’t know how to fix this. How could you ever fix that?

You draw your fist back before punching solidly through your husktop. Acceptably cathartic, you suppose. And not too much of a downside - you have other computers. Even if you didn’t, you have the money to cover for more. The only pressing issue now is picking the shards out of your skin, and that doesn’t take too long.

Your name is Equius Zahhak, and you’re about to pay your neighbor a friendly visit.

* * *

Crossing the canyon isn’t very difficult, for you at least. With your strength, a decent running jump is enough to safely cross the gap, and your cleats would  keep you  from slipping if you happened to miss by a small amount. Which you never have and never will. You’re no fool, and you can most assuredly say that your mechanic prowess proves  your skills in physics.

If you were trying to be stealthy, you would have failed. Even the softest landings you’ve managed haven’t been particularly quiet. But that is not the goal. In fact, you want to make it quite obvious to Vriska that you’ve arrived. There’s no time to be wasted on her shenanigans. To make it even clearer that her presence is requested, you call out to her.

“Good morning, dear neighbor! I  think it would be exceptional if you ’d come out now!” You  barely  hear her quick footsteps over the rushing of your blue blood.  De finitely present, though .  It barely took her  a minute to get out the door and begin her nonsense.

“What’s such a big deal that you couldn’t wait t-” she started, and then stopped just as quickly. Her eyes were wide. Surely, she realizes the urgency of whatever she thinks you came over for. It’s at least more likely than her finally respecting the fact that you’re of higher blood. After a heavy pause, she starts again. “Come on in.”

Vriska’s being shiftier than usual. She must be up to something. You say something to make sure she’s aware of you being aware of that. “ I’m onto you ,” you say , “so don’t t ry any tricks.”

“ Ah ,” she exhaled sharply, “you got it.  Would you like to take a shower, maybe wash your hair or something?  Really think about it. My treat.  The water’s cool and it’s really great…” She stared at you  impatiently.

“ _ Sure _ ,” you hiss. She leads you to the bottom of a staircase and appears to wait for you to go up first. It’s irritating how she’s wasting time. “Go on ahead,” you bark. She starts hurrying up the stairs, looking behind herself every ten seconds or so. “Don’t be so flighty. I need you for something and am not so stupid as to mess it up.”

“I  barely think you’re stupid at all! Look, here it is!” She points to a door just right of the top of the steps. “And – and I’ll be sure to give you your privacy and you and I can talk downstairs.” She stumbles down the steps, trying not to show her back to you the whole way, which is almost comical.  It’s no time for laughing, though. As softly as you can manage, you slip behind the door and close it. Then, slowly, you strip and turn on the water.

* * *

The water is indeed cool, which you would usually appreciate, but you need to feel clean again. You turn the heat all the way up, grab a pumice stone and soap, and _scrub_. Nothing softer will work. You run the rock up and down your back, being so careful not to break it, as you think of your favorite girl in the world and everything you can remember. You’re careful, too, not to let yourself break under the weight of your thoughts. Your carefulness doesn’t pay off as you clean your left arm, right arm, sides, or legs, because you manage to break again with each hard scrub.

You lean your head in very near to the showerhead and let your thoughts take you underwater. Memories, good memories, keep you floating. Remember the time when she first told you her wriggling day? It made you really happy it was so close to yours. Then, she sent you a finger painting, but you didn’t have time to make her anything, so you sent her some clean, new clothes. She loved them so much. She loved _you_ so much. Who else would hold onto you while heavy thoughts threatened to drown you? Who else would disagree, go so far as to _stop_ you when you explain for the hundredth time how you’re an awful freak and deserve to be hated? Who else ever will?

It’s been too long . The water’s running cool again .  Better late than never, though.  M ost trolls, especially those as apparently unstable as you, would have thought to get a moirail  somewhat earlier.  Yet, your hesitance didn’t negate the overall benefits of having her around, at least not entirely.

You turn the water off, step out of the shower, and start drying your hair and body. Vriska’s blow-dryer works well enough, so you turn it on and wait. But your attention turns to the black, blue, and gray pile in the corner. Might as well just wrap yourself in a few towels, because putting your old clothes back on would basically negate the whole ablution experience. 

The softness of the towels  is barely a comfort as  you step down the stairs.

* * *

It’s time to calm yourself down. While the past 10 days have felt like a hundred years, there’s not much benefit in rushing your conversation with  Vriska . This needs to be perfect, as perfect as it can be, given the circumstances.

“You  _ will _ give me a few minutes to compose myself.”  _ Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _

“ _ Fine _ .” Her voice is softer than usual, but still venomous.  _ Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _

Your mind is not going to clear. This much is certain. You can at least admire your surroundings. Her hive is much like yours, but with all of the accents in a slightly lower shade of blue. Either she’s grown into a much classier troll (unlikely), or her room is just the tackiest part of the hive, from your recollection. There are many black frames holding pictures of her and  Terezi . There are few with her and an  orangeblood boy. The frames aren’t the only black thing. Most of the hive is covered in glossy black paint, glossy enough to see your reflection in. You don’t want to see your reflection. Over in one corner is a respectable computer and keyboard on a small desk. It’s very obvious that she doesn’t come down here too often. It makes sense; she doesn’t have the time to waste.

You inhale and exhale deeply before beginning. “You know a number of  purplebloods from your  wigglerish games. How many?” She scoffs almost immediately.

“They’re not  _ wigglerish _ , they’re a perfectly acceptable pastime. And while I’d hate to give you a number, I still couldn’t if I wanted to! I’m not desperate or weird enough to write down the names and bloods of everyone who interacts with me.” She rolls her eyes at the end for good measure. Insolent girl.

“Ignoring your insults,” you growl, “surely there must be enough that are interesting enough to maintain contact with?”

“None of them have happened to be purple. There’s usually just too wild.”

“Yes. Far too wild.” She gives you a weird look. You probably were giving her one, too.

Silence swirls around the room uncomfortably for a minute. “If they were –  _ since  _ they were so wild, you remember some, correct?”

“I try not to.” Annoying, annoying girl.

“ _ Then try to _ !” You start breathing sharply, heavily, and your blood runs hot, especially taking into account your blue blood.

You poke your finger into her chest and she stumbles back and coughs. She shoots you a wild glare. “I know you don’t care about caste, but it would behoove you to actually listen for once in your life.” Your clench your fists before starting again. “I know you can show me at least a bit of the deference that you showed me earlier. You can’t-” no. No. “you can’t do what you need to if you’re dead.” She wouldn’t want this. She’d stop you. She wouldn’t stand by and let you push  Vriska down again and loom over her like an animal. “Nepeta is dead,” you whisper.

“She’s -  sh -she's?” she chokes out. No doubt you pushed her too hard. Something’s probably broken.

“Dead. You know the most people of anyone I know. Find her culler.” She coughs loudly, wetly, before she tries to speak once more.

“I can’t do much like this,” she whines. “Help me and I’ll help you. I don’t think you have much to offer me, though.”

“I’ll fix your ribs.”

“Fine. Just try not to fly off the handle in my direction.”


End file.
